Visitor of The Fading Gray Light
by Misskiramel
Summary: After the loss of a hopeless war Prussia finds himself alone, sealed away in Moscow. During one of many instances left in the melancholy to ponder his fate, he receives a very unexpected visitor. What fallows is their conversation.
1. Forsaken Skies

**Alrightly, you see here is the first story of mine to ever be posted on this site. Right now I'm trying to work my way around posting this thing. It's a one shot sort of thing right now but it might grow if anyone shows interest. I'm practicing dialog, reviews would be cool if anyone could drop one by ^^**

**I've done my best to clear out the typo's and I've read this over about a billion and three times (prime reason why I find it near impossible to finish anything I write). Really I'm just astounded that I was able to stop writing and post something for once. This story is a little bit Hungary/Prussia, and it's in the "adventure" category only because of what it might become if I decided to continue with it. It's rated T, because I'm a teenager (hence the 'T') and I generally write teenager like things. There are a few swear words and heavy allusions to goriness so be forewarned.  
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**Disclaimer: Alas mes chéris, these characters and their cannon story do not belong to me, nor does history. Those things all belong to the amazing: Hidekaz Himaruya (yes even perhaps history, in my opinion).**

In the fading gray light, one can only guess what time of day it is. A man sits in a gray walled room. His back is slumped against the gritty plaster surface, shoulders hunched and head hanging between them. He sits cross-legged with his elbows on his knees. His papery, pale white skin is knit together where his fingers are interlaced in front of his face. A face invisible. It's blocked from the quiet room by a hanging mess of tarnished greasy gray hair. Scarlet bloodshot eyes, carrying a hungry and profoundly mad gleam, dart from one pitch black crack in the wall to another. The walls look as if someone's decorated them. Someone's taken finger nails full of coal dust and drawn intricate streaks of lightning over the dull surfaces.

In the little square room the air is thin and so cold Prussia can't feel his limbs. They are stiff with sleep, but he hasn't bothered moving to wake them in some time. He gave up trying to warm himself long ago, there are no blankets, and he sometimes wonders if he can even die from something like cold. The lumpy mattress he sits on is gray like the walls, once a clean white like his hair, and set into a thin rusty iron frame. Those red eyes are now watching the dust swirl in twisters upon the floor. A floor made of planks of a dark red cherry wood. Gilbert's glad for the color, you can't see the stains. He watches the gentle breeze that flows in through the glassless windows play with the gray tufts of matter like a bored kitten.

His eyes lift after moments of observing the light particles. Trying to keep his mind safe from his pursuers, renegade thoughts. It was an eternal silent cat and mouse battle, trying not to think of anything at all. Shimmering rubies just barely visible between strands of gray hair, point to the window. The window is of course set into the wall, a plain rectangle without a frame. It's directly across the room from him. There is one identical other, sitting in the middle of the wall to his right. However, he pay's it no mind.

Prussia can see that his room is perched high above a city quieted by the winter by looking out the window. Gilbert can watch the heart of his captor's kingdom, still and unbeating this time of year. The buildings are made of blue and black stone, carved into intricately shaped architectural monoliths that house apartments. They look to him a sea of dead black spiders, perhaps killed off by the cold. Lying on their backs with their thousands of prickling spindly legs pointing towards the sky.

Somewhere behind locked doors families huddle around blazing fires, sharing a single quilt. He's like a little bird, he thinks, sitting in a silver cage set high above the linoleum floor of his master's house. The man abruptly distracts himself from his thoughts again, suddenly entranced by the rolling clouds overhead. They are yet another shade of ashen gray. The sun is behind them somewhere, but he can't see where. Does not know whether it is setting, rising, or noon. Cracks of blinding whiteness break through the clouds all over the forsaken, birdless sky.

The skeletal figure takes a deep shuttering, rattling breath that sounds something like an inhaled sigh. Prussia's gray button up decomposing dress shirt hangs off him. So do the baggy black cargo pants clothing his legs. He lets his eyes drift shut and he listens instead to the gentle pitter-patter sound of his faintly beating heart. All to try in vain to escape his own insidious consciousness.

Then there is a rapping at the door, and Gilbert hears his heart begin to race. Picking up its pace until it is ramming itself painfully against the inside of his fragile chest.

"Гилберт?" A voice asked innocently from the other side of the door, situated towards the far end of the left wall. The thick oak wood is blemished with cream scratches and dents that match Gilbert's bloody knuckles and fingers.

"What do you want Ivan?" Prussia meant to roar, eyes flickering open and shining with a dangerous glint. He only managed to growl in a voice cracked with disuse.

"You have a visitor little GDR." He sang in that sickeningly childish voice he loathed. Prussia raised one eyebrow inquisitively and his head rose from it's drooping. He had never had a visitor before, only Russia ever came knocking. Well… Lithuania had come once, the first night. "I'll just let her in." He said sweetly, sounding like a plastically cheerful character from a children's tv show. In the ensuing silence there was a sharp click as a tiny brass key was turned in the locking mechanism of the door. The door swung inward easily, a few rays of yellow light rushing in to dance across the dark floor from the hall outside. "You have twenty minutes dear." The violet eyed monster seemed to purr. His no doubt ghostly pale, mortifying smiling face hidden from sight out in the hall.

"Thank you sir." An alto, smooth, confidant, and distinctly feminine voice rolled in through the deathly chilly air. The familiar sound made Prussia's heart constrict painfully. His eyes widen in a flash of confusion that quickly transformed into one of glowering.

"You." Prussia spat as a woman with long flowing brown hair floated through the open doorway to face him.

"Me." She replied softly, a grin giving her lips a happy crescent shape. As the door abruptly swished shut behind her and was relocked with another echoing click, she slid her hands into her pant pockets. They were the pockets of a steal blue soviet uniform. Complete with a furry mink hat nesting over her soft hair. "Good evening Mr. Beilsmitch." She greeted him formally with a small curt nod.

"You come here just to taunt me? I'm sure your _Vanya_ is very pleased with you." He snarled through jaws clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might crack.

"As much as I would absolutely love to spend the next twenty minutes patronizing you, Gilbert, I didn't fight my way here just to argue. I came to give you something." She told him. She unzipped her ski jacket, revealing the white cotton shirt underneath. Hungary reached one arm inside and withdrew a black and white stripped blanket that had been carried between her stomach and the coat. It was folded into a neat square.

"Merry Christmas you ungrateful bastard!" Hungary enthusiastically wished, throwing the warm blanket violently toward Prussia. It opened like a parachute canopy above his head. Then, drifted down to burry him in a sea of thick fleece fabric. He said something in reply that Hungary couldn't hear, muffled by the folds of cloth that buried the trapped Prussian.

"What was that? Thank you?" She inquired loudly, raising her hand to cup her ear in emphasis.

After a few moments of wrestling with the blanket latter, in which it was a pulsating surface broken by feeble punches and kicks, he finally managed to find the end of it. Only his head appeared, the rest of his body remaining submerged. He took in a noisy gulp of fresh air as he burst through.

"No! I said, are you trying to suffocate me!" he shouted angrily, hoarse voice crackling like a fire into the open air.

"If it will make you any quieter, but somehow I doubt that. You've been stuck up here alone for years and your still as noisy and annoying as you've ever been!" She said, laughter bubbling up in her chest, feeling like hot cocoa filling her heart in the bracing cold.

"Get away from me you traitorous hag!" Gilbert protested as Hungary advanced towards him from across the room, floorboards creaking dangerously as she went. Once standing over his mattress, she bent down to brush a thick layer of dust off the thin cloth with a cream gloved hand.

"May I sit down? I've come quiet a long way." Hungary inquired gently.

A firm

"No." Was all she got from Prussia, who had pulled the blanket tighter around himself like a protective shell meant to ward off evil. His back was pressed flat against the wall. Sighing, Elizaveta ignored him and promptly sat down, front facing the window across the room as he was. Instead of letting her legs dangle off the edge of the bed Hungary pulled them into a cross legged sitting position. She was made clumsy by her black combat boots. Which were a men's size and a little too big for her. He didn't pull away this time as she backed up against the wall. He only continued to glare. She was close enough to Prussia that the big blanket and her thick coat brushed.

"Alright, so what do we do for fun around here?" Hungary asked sarcastically, putting on an expectant smile and turning to stare at her friend's wary, untrusting face.

Prussia merely scoffed at her, swiftly turning his head to glare into the open white space outside his window. Hungary mimicked the movement, trying to figure out what he found so interesting about the white and gray landscape outside. After a few seconds of observing the drab skyline, her red lips parted as she spoke.

"I really missed you." She admitted quietly, bring her right arm around Prussia's frail shoulders. She closed her eyes as she leaned her head against his.

"You never told me why you came." He shot back.

"I already told you, it's Christmas and I got you a present." She replied simply.

"Ja, but why? You also told me you hated me. People that hate each other don't get each other Christmas gifts. Not unless they're rigged to explode." Prussia reasoned coolly.

"I did not!" Hungary yelled, sounding hurt by the notion that she would even consider such a lowly thing as hatred.

"Yes you did." Gilbert insisted, raising both thin silver eyebrows disbelievingly at the fact she didn't appear to recall. "I distinctly remember."

"Did not!" She repeated with twice the fervor.

"Did to!" Prussia barked.

The childish disagreement ended in the two glaring at each other with enough ferocity to make Germany and Austria hastily vanish from the room. As the two friends would have just like old times, had they been present. It didn't help that the pair were close enough that the tips of their noses touched. Prussia was first to break the glare. Pouting like a disgruntled teenager. Hungary hottily turned her own eyes away and loosened her tight grip on his wasted shoulder.

"I said that 'your insufferable and I can't stand to be near you.' Not that I hated you." Elizaveta tried to explain.

"If that's true than you are hugging me now because…?" Prussia questioned teasingly, dragging out the end of his 'because'.

"It's because your awesome idiot. Duh," She grumbled, as if that was the answer to everything. She blew a strand of his hair out of her face in annoyance.

"I see you've finally realized the ultimate truth. How's it feel to be the first to reach the epitome of enlightenment?" He announced like he was a reporter congratulating her on having been crowned queen of the world in that moment.

"Somehow I doubt I'm the first. You know what other earth shattering realization I've come to?"

"What?"

"You really need a bath. You stink." She accused, grinning.

"No shit." He replied, smiling warmly into her shoulder. His taunt muscles and jumble of broken bones, relaxed into her side.

"I suppose Russia won't let you take me out of here so I can get one of those?" Prussia asked even thought he knew it was wishful thinking.

"Not a chance." Hungary's answer was an angry growl brought on by the thought of Ivan.

"Eh, aw well, another ten years without soap can't hurt. Hey..." He chirped good naturedly.

"mmm?" She hummed in reply.

"If you don't despise me than why the betrayal? You told me that if we lost, or if one of us was captured, you wouldn't leave me behind no matter what. And I you, I really meant it too, for once. So… why did you lie to me?" There it was, the question she'd been waiting on him to ask. The atmosphere, which had been beginning to grow easy, was alight with static. He asked it out of the blue, like he didn't really care if he got an answer. As if it didn't really matter to him either way. Hungary detected the tension in his words thought, and immediately knew he was dead serious.

"Your just chuck full of questions today aren't you?" Her voice sounded strained, wary, and careful.

"I spend most of my time trying not to think at all, especially questions. I've had a lot of time to think thought and every once in a while a thought slips through. They've snowballed into a few good sentences over the years." He continued in the same tense, animus, positive tone.

"It wasn't my choice to have you dissolved you know. I'm just along for the ride, my hands are no longer my own and I spend my days trying to keep them from turning on me." She said, tone dropping dangerously dark and steely. He wasn't fazed.

"Elizaveta, stop avoiding my question. I'm not looking for an excuse or half answers, I'm asking why. Don't I deserve at least that? After having me locked away, stripped of everything I am, while you get off scot free at my expense. While you're forgiven and I'm damned to this frozen hellish limbo for the rest of eternity." His voice peeled out into a hateful drawl.

She snorted. Hungary wanted so much to yell that her life wasn't exactly rainbows and sunshine either. She had her fair share of tragedy and persecution too. She had also felt her people being massacred in the streets, starving in their homes. However, she caught herself long before she could open her mouth. She knew better and she was done making mistakes.

"What else can I say? You already know I'm a coward. I know I promised to stay with you but… I'm not as strong as you. I don't think anyone is. I wouldn't last five minutes in your boat. I'm hideously selfish and I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself. I was afraid. I thought I was strong enough but I wasn't, I was gravely mistaken. Those are the reasons why I accepted the devil's deal, in the end." She admitted her feelings all at once, served in the form of choppy directly to the point sentences. Elizaveta held no truth back from him. Hungary had come in part to set things right between them, and she decided she couldn't let herself avoid him any longer.

Prussia looked at her as if he didn't believe her, like he was sure she had to be lying. It intensified the untrusting look that glazed over his red eyes the entire time they had been speaking. _Was the answer really that simple? She was just afraid?_ He thought. "What did you expect? Some elaborate plan of betrayal on my part? Full of sworn oaths of vengeance against you and your brother for being the bane of my existence for the past millennium?" She inquired, the corners of her mouth turning up in sudden amusement.

"Something like that. It would have made you easier to hate." He conceded, sounding distant but still frustrated. Then there was a heavy pause. "Speaking of him, how is he?" The reappearance of Gilberts voice was tender, longing, and sad. A drastic change from the dripping anger that had colored it a few minutes before.

"I don't know." She sighed sympathetically. "I don't have any information or contact with the world outside Soviet's sphere of influence. No one does. I don't think even the winter demon himself has intel on what's going on beyond the barrier… I'm sorry."

"It's gotten that bad?" He asked, exhaustion seeping into his tone. _Bad?_ She chuckled darkly to herself. _This guy doesn't know the half of it. _She thought.

"Yeah, they call it the iron curtain. You felt it descending didn't you? You must have. There's a wall splinting your Berlin in two." She stated grimly. Prussia's eyes bulged in their sockets, as if he'd just come to a horrifying realization of some kind.

"So that's what that was…" He muttered under his breath, gazing out the window again with half lidded eyes like it wasn't even there. Peering through the fabric of space and time into a completely different world.

"What did you feel?" Hungary asked, a searing hot bubble of concern and fear clogging the inside of her throat. _Get a hold of yourself dammit._

"It felt like someone was ripping me in two, or maybe cleaving me in half. Kind of like being drawn and quartered. There's a scar going down my chest, straight across my heart." His tone was strange. Prussia gestured to the blanket warming his torso with a bony hand. Elizaveta responded by sliding her other arm around him and hugging him closer. She rested her cheek, flushed from the cold, against his. "Don't hold me to tightly, you'll wreck the few ribs that aren't already mangled." He complained.

"Sorry."

"S'alright." "Lizzy?"

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas… missed you too." Prussia grumbled into the crook of her neck as if hoping she wouldn't hear.

"Elizaveta, it's time to go, we need to get to that meeting with North Korea. It's already late and you know how impatient he gets." The room's occupant and his guest both jumped at the same time, eyes wild. Russia's bubbly childish voice came from the other side of the door. _I hadn't even heard him returning from his walk across the building to make the phone call._ Hungary thought in shock.

"Yes, I'm coming." Elizaveta called back with a fake smile and brightness. She reluctantly let go of Prussia, pulling away. He slumped on his side against the back wall, giving her a good luck smirk. Hungary crawled on her hands and knees backward across the mattress. She was about to slide off the edge of the bed when she suddenly paused. An expression of remembering something dawned on her face. The shadow of a smile gracing her features, she leaned back towards Prussia. Her lips brushing against the rim his ear as she whispered, just so Russia couldn't hear.

"Prussia… If I'm trapped inside and the door can only be opened from the outside, than who is going to set you free?"

Her mission complete, the lithe girl hopped off the edge of the mattress. She retreated toward the door, just as it was popped opened for her by Russia on the other side. Hungary turned her head to give Gilbert a small goodbye wink before she darted out into the hall and disappeared from his sight. The heavy door, Prussia was suspicious of it being steel reinforced, swung shut behind her with a thunderous thud. His visitor gone, Gilbert Beilsmitch was once again left with only his self-destructive thoughts for company. Those and a few new memories of eyes the color of newborn leaves in spring.


	2. Meeting of Glass

**Alright, I don't have much time for righting right now I have to rush off to get my homework done in a few seconds. But, here that new chapter, it's finally done and as a plus, it's longer and more detailed than the last one! I focused a little less on dialog here but it's still a main thing I'm working with in this story as a whole. Here you go. I don't have much else to say other than this is ****more gruesome, dark, sad, ****yada yada yada than the the last one. But never fear, Hungary and Toris are here!**

**Warning: Alcoholism, Ivan is here. This story features historical inaccuracy too. It's based very loosely off of historical happenings but it is by no means a history text book. This is just a story written for fun and I don't mean to offend anyone by it. The views Hungary and other characters have aren't my views.  
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**Tell me what you think? :)  
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"Fishies Estonia!" A small fawn haired boy exclaimed in awe. His soft cream cheeks were smushed against a thin sheet of cool glass. He peered with round blue eyes that twinkled with delight at the sight of the dancing creatures. Deep sapphire waters, shimmering with hundreds of pearl like bubbles, sheltered a designer reef. Golden glossy sand was carefully spread over the artificial seafloor. Out of it sprouted bright green floppy seaweeds with rounded diamond shaped leaves. Their stems bobbed, weaved, and wriggled. The reflective surfaces of the slimy twisting leaves shimmering in the glow of the rod shaped light bulbs glued to the underside of the tank cover.

Clownfish darted in and out of bright orange sea anemones. Three inch long infant sharks the color of watery mud hid inside rosy pink spongy corals. Dark shadowy fish glided relaxed among blue and white Emperor Angelfish. Their long drooping fins tossed in the currents like ribbons with their ends set aflame. A vibrant lionfish swam; poisonous quill tipped fins spread proudly. He glided behind a tiny Pajama Cardinal. Decorated with delicate red, yellow, white, and black scales.

The cardinal seemed to have a special interest in the curious human. Having strayed away from the rest of the tanks activity to hover fearlessly millimeters from the child's nose. He blew bubbles of carbon dioxide that burst against the bluish green glass in front of him. The fish gawked with uncomprehending wide red eyes at the looming shape that cast him into shadow. The wary golden eyes of a ringed Eel watched them both in their wonder of one another. She was coiled beneath an impressive hunk of smooth tea colored jade.

"Yes I know they're very cute, but Russia will want us back at the table Latvia."

The tall nervous blond standing to the smaller nations right hurriedly reminded him.

"Look at that one Estonia! It looks like a tiger!" The boy giggled, pressing his pointer finger against the glass to show his friend. Estonia fiddled with the maroon tie hanging around his neck in anxiety. His rectangular wire frame glasses teetered precariously on the tip of his nose.

"Yes, it's very pretty, can we please go back to the table now?" Eduard pleaded with his brother.

"This one looks like a tiny moon." Latvia piped happily as a jittery silver mono fish darted into his sights.

"Latvia!" Estonia despairingly cried.

Elizaveta stared into the transparent tiny cup of Cheongju nestled between her curled hands. The surface of the rice wine rippled as she ran her index finger over the rim of the glass. The thin material whistled at the touch of her damp fingers. Over the edge of the shot glass Hungary kept a watchful eye on her companions enjoying the fish tank.

The normally determinedly calm Hungary couldn't keep herself from fidgeting in her seat. She felt like there were wriggling black ants crawling along her skin. They swarmed beneath her coat, which was suddenly _way_ to hot. Hungary sat on the much to soft carmine cushion set on a much to stiff russet chair. The navy blue and dull green walls of the large rectangular room were beginning to collapse inward. They were closing in with the creaking and snapping of splintering rotten wood. The walls leaned forward and like hungry lions crept ever closer, but no one appeared to notice except for the lone girl nation. Soon they would all be crushed.

She listened to the low, quiet voice of North Korea. The din also contained the louder, cheery voice of Russia as they negotiated weapons, cooperative schemes, and resources. The two of them appeared to be thankfully ignoring Estonia's worried voice.

A man with a long black braid snaking down his straight back. It was tied off at the end by a satin white ribbon. His cream skinned face resembled his brothers, but was considerably narrower and more triangular. He had big, heavy lidded dark velvet eyes. Eyes that occasionally fell upon the glass of European red wine he was swirling absentmindedly in front of him. The ominous electric blue light that emitted from the fish tank glinted blindingly in full color spectrums off the thin crystal goblet. The stem of which, was cradled delicately in his right hand. This was the mysterious, illusive, North Korea. He was a country rarely seen by any other, as he preferred to keep his thoughts and dreams very exclusive. He was a man that confided only in himself, that is, until he met a certain Russian. North Korea preferred the term confidantes, Russia called him family.

"Elizaveta… do you not like your drink?" The Korea's easy friendly voice inquired politely from where he sat. His legs were crossed at the head of the table in his blood red, silk suit. Hungary's head instantly snapped to attention from it's drooping.

"Oh, I like it just fine thank you. It's just that… those fish of yours are so gorgeous." She replied graciously with a flourishing smile. Hungary gestured with her eyes to the spacious tank. It lined the entirety of the room's longest wall. She quickly made good use of the first excuse that popped into her mind.

"I'm glad, for a moment I thought there might have been something bothering you." Korea continued, while smiling at Hungary from around the corner of the table. Although, his brow was still furrowed in a moment of concern, it made for an odd expression. Hungary glimpsed a large thin, almost transparent stingray fluttering through the enclosure from across the room. Easily started, Latvia gasped and hopped backwards a few inches from the glass as the ray frightened away the Cardinal fish in front of him. The smaller fish vanished in the blink of an eye to some unforeseen part of the tank, disappearing in little more than a black blur.

"No, just admiring your rays. I didn't know they could be such a dazzling shade of cobalt. The only ones I've ever seen have either been brown or gray." She complimented, returning his easy smile.

"Yes, deadly venomous to the touch that one is. Her name's Eun, it means grace in my language." Said North Korea's warm silky tone. She thought his voice reminded her of a snakes, if they could speak Korean.

"Lovely." Hungary had to fight to keep the disgust, and the bite of sarcasm out of her voice.

"Russia, what was it you were saying about dead…?" Lithuania suddenly interjected. He had been sitting quietly with his hands folded over the polished wood tabletop. Russia, who had taken the pause in his and North Korea's conversation to take a sip of Vodka, replaced his glass on the wood. The base of the cup made a dull thunking noise against the long rectangular table positioned in the center of the room.

"Dead weight Liet, dead weight." Ivan sighed around the enormous smile splitting his face in two. His pale sandy colored hair fell to the sides of his face, away from where it had been previously obscuring his unearthly colored eyes. "I think there's a troublesome child that we could do without." He stated matter-of-factly.

Hungary's eyes flickered towards Russia's pleasant round face, trying to penetrate his eternal smile in search of the truth behind his innocent sounding words. As did the eyes of everyone else in the dark room. Latvia looked over his shoulder with eyes wide in fear, shaking where his small hands were still pressed against the fishtank. Estonia moved to put his hand on Latvia's shoulder in a comforting motion, a failed attempt to still his quivering. Lithuania's deep green eyes grew stone cold and serious wile he watched the Russian sitting to his left. They waited for an explanation. Only North was unfazed, he simply quirked an eyebrow slightly at the peculiar change in the atmosphere of his dinning room.

"I was thinking, Korea, if a nation's people disappear they also vanish, correct?" Russia asked his question as if he already knew the answer.

"From what China has told me in his stories of Mesopotamia that appears to be true." His friend and host offered, raising his glass in a gesture of confirmation.

"What would happen if the nation itself died first?" Ivan ventured.

"Impossible." North Korea confidently proclaimed with a quick shake of his head.

"Are you sure?" Russia questioned, testing Korea's front of certainty.

"… According to what I've witnessed…" North Korea began, but he was quickly cut off.

"Than you aren't very experienced comrade. My mother was killed, in front of my eyes by a group of Mongolian soldiers when I was a small child. Kiev died, but the country and its people remained. Only names changed. I took up most of what was left of her, my sisters…" He paused for a moment to look around the table at the other nations, and at those off to the side. Everyone at the table was crowded around the very end farthest from the door, leaving it seven eighths empty. "You and your brothers Toris, Poland too took the rest. I think that if an… irresponsible nation was already in our family, and they perished, I could keep their land and their people safe from harm while they passed on."

He told his story, his explanation; with a businesslike voice that was awash with a somber timbre despite his eternal smile.

"What are you proposing Vanya?" Hungary asked, she defiantly didn't like where he was going with this particular charade. The claustrophobia she felt from being in the stuffy room only worsened.

"I had this wonderful idea Eliza. Do we really need to keep the personification of the GDR locked away in the palace? Only for him to refuse all my offers of kindness, of power, and continue to remain so reclusive? Just waiting for the destruction of the Union. He'll turn on us as soon as he's given the chance. Kill us all in our sleep if he could. Don't you think it would be better if Gilbert was gone and East Germany was part of Russia? Clearly it's not enough that I made, Konigsburg, his heart a part of me. I'm beginning to believe that is the only way to bring his people peace. To think, we can free them! It's the vile Prussian blood in their vanes that keeps them protesting, wishing to leave me. It's dangerous, I don't want anyone else to have to be hurt." He sounded genuinely forlorn and concerned for the welfare of the East Germans. Hungary had no doubt that he was, in his own twofaced twisted way. After a few moments of silence Russia's smile shrunk until it was only a feeble quirk in his lips. "You understand…" His voice was suddenly quieter. Ivan's lonely soulful purple eyes searched for reassurance in her secretive green ones.

Hungary opened her mouth to protest, to scream in her defense of the last link to her past, the last bridge leading home. The person without she would completely forget who she was in this new world of lies. The scalding anger bubbling beneath her skin tempted her to blow the cover she had spent tens of years perfecting in a few seconds. Her words quickly died on her tongue as she remembered how they would only render her unable to make a difference. Just like that they were quickly replaced by something far less fatal.

"Yes, of course I understand. It's the people that matter; nothing can stand in the way of our mission for peace, for happiness. Whatever you think is best sir." Hungary obediently told him, in the kindest gentlest voice she could muster under the circumstances.

Russia's smile returned with a vengeance, to its full terrifying glory.

"Good girl. In that case… the execution will be set for, how does next week sound?" He quipped cheerfully, clapping his hands together with a sense of finality.

_Next week! Next week!_ She screamed inside her head. The corners of her smiling lips twitched downward for half an instant. It had taken her years and years to achieve her status, to gain so much of Russia's trust. Years to develop her plans and she still wasn't even close to her goal. Now she had to achieve it in a weeks time! Silence ensued. Even thought Hungary was to consumed by her inner turmoil to respond, Russia acted like she had. Silently she thanked God for her learned gift, materializing as a means of survival, for making so finely woven emotional masks. "Excellent. It'll be fun, afterwards we'll go out for ice cream! How does that sound Latvia?" Russia suggested excitedly, it seemed like he was about ready to start bouncing in his seat like a child on his birthday. The lights from the fish tank gave Russia's delighted eyes an indigo hue. The boy clinging to Estonia's black suit jacket only made a frightened, watery squeak.

To put it bluntly, honestly, a part of her was relieved. For a breath of a thought, a moment of doubt. Her pain, his pain, it could all end. It meant she wouldn't have to lay wide-awake late at night listening while the anxiety welled in her chest, eating her alive. Waiting in apprehensive silence, hearing Russia's heavy foot falls as he ascends the staircase to Gilbert's room. Such haunting nights were as unpredictable and randomly occurring as Russia's many moods. They might happen every night of the week, could be every other, mayhap it be none at all. The inconstant timing made them all the more unsettling.

Minute's latter Prussia's blood curdling screams would echo off every wall, obliterating even the lingering memory of quiet. Every so often. Far to often. The sickening noise resonated off the glass surface of the windows and she was sure they would shatter, leaving her room without barriers against the relentless winter wind. They never did. The sound of his begging. His desperate mindless pleas for help. That sound would stab and rip apart her mind until it was in bleeding ribbons. All intertwined with Russia's ghostly voice taking on the form of a drunken slur. Perhaps it would present itself as a furious wail, or maybe a string of threats and unmet demands.

She knew that she had been purposely designated to that room so that she could hear it. In some ways his cries were ripped from his raw searing throat just for her. So that she would writher with him in her own guilt. So that she could be reminded of what would happen to her if she ever tried to betray Russia, to save Gilbert. His screams mocked her powerlessness and drove it deeper into her skull each night as Russia released all his own unbearable suffocating pain and pent up anger on his prisoner.

It was no use asking to be moved to another room. Hungary had asked so many times over, against her better judgment, and she was beginning to feel like a broken record. Russia would simply feign immense hurt; he would take on a heartbroken expression. Then he would ask if she did not like his humble hospitality in giving her a free place to stay in his home. Like that she would loose more of his precious trust. She also knew Prussia wasn't aware that she had been listening so intently, unwilling as she was, to his torture.

Hungary was suddenly overwhelmed and disgusted. She felt bile rising in her throat. Elizaveta became repulsed by her own selfishness and immediately distracted herself with frantic thoughts like _what am I going to do now?_ She had no time to be afraid, to be shocked, she had to act.

This had to stop, and that was all.

Hungary gasped as she felt a gentle tug on her coat sleeve, dragging her from the depths of her personal sea of panic. A peach pink hand grasped the thick grayish fabric near her wrist. Hungary's eyes flickered upward. She was met with a warm understanding smile and two green eyes that shimmered lightly in the dimness. They were not to unlike her own, but their gleam was far less distraught. The smile of a friend, of someone that didn't relish in seeing her upset. Brown hair hung about his calm face.

Her racing, chaotic stormy thought ocean calmed and became placid. Disrupted only by the erratic ripples caused by her still fast beating heart. The hand on her coat sleeve quickly moved to grasp her icy hand in a reassuring gesture. Lithuania then slipped a tiny folded piece of discolored lined paper under her palm. Hungary could feel the worn soft edges tickling against her skin. The material was warm with the heat from his hand. She didn't dare move a muscle as the deadly note was passed to her. The soft touch of the paper sent liquid fire coursing up the veins in her arm.

North Korea and Russia began to resume their talking like Ivan had merely announced his verdict on a trivial matter. Something like what they were eating for dinner or when he wanted to arrive back in Moscow. It was of no importance in comparison to his grander plans for the greater good. It did not matter so much as the tanks Korea made for him or the race for nuclear arms. In no way could it compare to his hatred for America or the information his brilliant spies brought in from all around the world. They didn't care to notice Hungary and Lithuania's insignificant exchange.

Later they would have just arrived; being flown into Moscow after the hours long jet ride that had lasted long into the night. Before having been driven the rest of the way from the airport to their house in a black armored car. They would burst in through the twenty foot high double doors, opened by the ten armed soldiers standing at attention, waiting patiently for their safe return. All five of them would race through the open doors from the snowstorm brewing just outside.

Latvia, Russia, Estonia, Lithuania, and Hungary. Under the cover of darkness they would enter, snowflakes chasing after and frost nipping at their heels. The night would look like a black rectangular portal to nightmares and secrets pulsing with a life of it's own just beyond the doorway. A hole in the fabric of space and time that would suck you back in if you weren't quick enough to escape. The four of them would disperse at Ivan's command, taking the opportunity to make themselves scarce. As soon as the door had swung shut with an echoing boom and was safely locked with the key he kept in his coat pocket. They would all scuttle off to their separate rooms to make use of what few hours of darkness they had left for sleeping. As Hungary lumbered off towards her own chamber, Russia would fall into step close beside her.

Hungary would be walking calmly at Russia's side in the darkness of the early morning as they made their way through his palace. She would be completely exhausted and feeling drained of all emotion. Deep in the house she would be able to hear the gentle sounds of sleep with her keen sense of hearing. The quiet snoring, mumbling, or breathing of Poland, of Ukraine, Belarus, Bulgaria, Romania, Albania, and all the others.

The tall walls would loom high above her head plastered in green and gold wallpaper. The painted domed ceiling, decorated with white winged angels, would be so high above that it was eaten up by the pitch night. Their boot steps would echo noisily off the swirling black and white surface of the marble floor. Followed closely by the swish of Russia's long beige coat. Tall clear glass windows would stand rigid along the walls. They would reflect the harsh silver moonlight that bounced off the snow, each five feet apart. Ivan would reach out with one leather gloved hand and grip her slightly shaking pale fingers. At the same time she would grip tighter the paper piece nestled protectively in the warm folds of her palms skin. The curious message of _Lamppost 1_9 scrawled across the faded blue lines in dark, dripping black pen.


	3. The End of One World

**Yeah so, this is another chapter. I apologize to anyone that might have been fallowing this about the centuries wait, though you've probably forgotten about it by now. I've been avoiding writing this because I started to hate how it was coming out, it took me a lot of convincing on the part of my best friend to post this. I would like to write more but, we'll see, I have a clear definite plot in my head. Thank you so much, to everyone who reviewed on previous chapters, I really enjoyed reading them :D  
**

The air rung, it quaked and roared with the sound of the worlds ending. He felt like he had his ear up against the hot surface of the Emmanuel bell in Notre dame while it was struck again and again. His skull throbbed with the resonating, piercing sounds. The only thing he could hear above the screech of the blaze was the crippling screams of his people. Prussia's heart burned and screamed with them on the inside of his chest as Königsberg was smothered in smoke, flames, and gunfire.

A shock of brilliant white hair darted in between vertical infernos. Looking like geysers of fire sprouting up from the blackened earth. The flaming brick buildings leaned dangerously towards him as he ran between them. The towering flames blocked out the blue sky, creating a raging tunnel of fire. They creaked and moaned like the dying men of the city as he clutched tighter the hand he held in his. The pink flawless skin of her fingers interlaced with his long albino digits discolored with soot and ash. She turned her head to face him. Her hair was held back in the same short ponytail she had worn as a child. Her red lips parted as she yelled something to him while pointing at the opening between the two buildings in front of them, the passage way that led out into a street fraught with frantic bloodthirsty soldiers and tanks. He could not hear past the explosions of shells and collapsing structures, past the terrifying sound of wiring sirens. In his other hand he clutched tighter his black rifle to his side. He could only guess that she was proposing they run out into the chaos beyond the toxic smoke filled alleys rather than suffocate. He quickly mouthed the word

"Yes," back to her. They burst through into the gray-brown world beyond the vibrant reds and oranges of the buildings seconds of sprinting for their lives later. The air here was awash with the scent of fresh blood, with a backdrop of the intoxicating smoke.

"Stoĭ!"**(Stop!)** A soldier bellowed, dressed in the uniform of the red army. Behind him rose the picture perfect blue sky, safe and free from the falling world below. The black tar of the street was no longer visible. The tanks had dug up the asphalt, grinding it into dust as they rampaged through the streets. All the windows in the once cheerful shops and bustling apartment buildings were missing their glass. For a moment, time seemed to slow until it nearly stopped. His city used to be a heart-warming sort of place once. Its people were made strong by their closeness to one another. First its peace was destroyed by the same corruption that had taken hold of his brother's world, but now he couldn't see a future where it would ever recover. He couldn't recognize his own home without the absence of the obnoxiously loud, echoing laughs of returning fishermen and the smell of sea salt that clung to the air every morning. He mourned the children running in and out from under the tables in front of the coffee shops, just weeks before. Awarded with yelps and shouts as startled customers, smiling faces obscured by coffee or newspapers, lifted their feet to avoid them. The shop girls that gossiped a million miles an hour in from of the flower shop across the street had either been taken by the invading soldiers, or he hoped against all odds, escape out of the country as more of the millions of homeless refugees. Explosives had obliterated what the tank treads hadn't ripped apart. Whatever might have remained was covered up by rubble. Huge boulder sized pieces of plaster and rust colored brick were scattered across the dusty ground. The air was littered with particles, displaced sediment mixed with the sickly air, creating a poisonous whitish fog. It made the inside of his throat itch. His eyes watered as the mixture of sand and toxic ash burned them.

A moment of terror had flashed across the soldier's young features; his sandy colored hair was plastered with sweat and grime. He had been caught off guard as two armed people nearly crashed into him in their race to escape the burning streets. The soldier immediately turned to point a gun at Prussia's rapidly rising and falling chest.

"Ich werde nie halt!"**(I will never stop!)** Prussia roared in his face. He let go of the comforting weight of the hand that was clasping his so tightly. The girl's fingers he released immediately curled into a powerful fist. He gripped his automatic weapon in both hands. Prussia raised the barrel to the Russian mans, no boys, own chest.

"Get out of our way." Gilbert snarled the warning through bared white teeth. Hungary backed him up by putting her own loaded rifle to the soldier's temple. Her finger lingered threateningly on the iron trigger. She glared, bent on their survival, daring the anger and fear held in the Russians blue eyes, duel mirrors of the sky, to spur on retaliation.

"Tsk, tsk, Gilbert. Two on one isn't very fair, da?" A light airy voice fell on Gilbert's screeching eardrums. It was followed by the sound of another gun being cocked just before Prussia could feel the sharp cold pressure of the boxy barrel of a TT pistol being dug into the back of his scalp. "There, that's much better." Gilbert could feel Ivan's warm breath against the back of his neck as he spoke. It smelled of blood, vodka, pine, and that fresh crisp hallow scent of freshly fallen snow. Prussia smirked.

"Yeah, it's nice you finally decided to show your face. I've been looking for you."

"So I've heard. You left a message with that general of mine you nearly killed. What was it…? Oh now I remember, you told him that you 'won't stop until that fat bastard is running from my city for his life.'" Russia's happy tone carried the animus edge that made other countries flee in terror.

"Ja, that sounds about right." Prussia confirmed caustically.

"Well, I have news for you _Preußen_." Russia sneered mockingly. "I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not in a thousand years. Your city will be mine for the rest of eternity and it will burn until there are no Prussians left to resist." Russia's voice retained its childish frequency but lost all sense of the kindness it usually contained. He sounded like a much too old, much too powerful, much too serious, provoked child.

Prussia gave a defiant snarl to that. The sound of a pistol going off cracked through the air like thunder. He had dropped to his knees, landing in a crouch against the concrete. Just as he plummeted Russia had fired his gun. The bullet shot through the air, it brushed

Prussia's hair as he went down, leaving a smoldering path through the silver strands. Ivan's soldier jumped back in alarm as the projectile whizzed past his left ear. In that moment of confusion the soldier pointed his gun towards the sky. Hungary didn't pass up an opportunity when she saw one. She flipped her rifle around in her hands with one swift, skillful movement.

"Good night." She announced sadly.

Elizaveta proceeded to bash the butt of her gun into the side of the soldier's skull. The soldier had hardly time to let out a startled yelp before he collapsed like a ton of bricks to the gray gravel at Hungary's feet, unconscious. Accompanying the sickening thud as the human hit the rocks came the sound of Prussia firing at Russia's knees. Ivan dodged quickly to the side, but he wasn't quiet fast enough. The metal pellet plummeted into the side of his calf. Ivan dropped his pistol, _like a hot potato_, Prussia thought. It clattered noisily to the ruble. Russia didn't cry out in pain or sink to the ground as Prussia had hoped. Instead his rage only seemed to swell, as did the towering man himself. Blood gushed from the wound in the side of his leg, red and thick as cream, but he didn't appear to notice. Prussia rose to his feet, staring his enemy in the face with a good amount of hatred to counter.

"You should have cleared out while you had the chance Russia." Hungary hissed before repositioning her gun, aiming for Ivan's forehead.

"Not so fast there sweetheart," a cocky naïve voice announced loudly from the direction of, directly behind her. Hungary froze in place, she felt as if her blood had turned to ice in her veins even in the scorching hot dry air of the burning city.

"Go easy on petite Hungary Amérique. It's not nice to pick on pretty girls." The smooth disdainful voice of France reached her ears. She felt a heavy hand fall onto her shoulder, covering a dark bloodstain on her green uniform.

"Back off France," Prussia spun on his heels, training his gun instead on his former best friend. He covered Russia's pistol with the heel of a black combat boot, pinning it to the ground where it dug into the earth. The gun had landed just behind him. America waved his steal flamethrower in warning, a gesture of trying to defuse the fury milling around them, but instead nearly whacking England in the face with it.  
"Careful where you're pointing that thing you bloody git!" England scoffed, narrowing his otherworldly green eyes, flecked with yellow. A sniper rested leisurely against his shoulder. America seemed too happy with his contraption to notice him however.

"Relax Prussia, you're out numbered mon ami. Come quietly, oui? It's over." France sighed. All the same he removed his scabbed fingers and his hand fell to the rifle at his side. He had red bandages wrapped around his head and dark circles under his tried blue eyes. France's cerulean military coat was open, hanging off his shoulders. His shirt had been torn away by medics, exposing the winding bandages that extended from his waist nearly to his ribs.

"And let you and that psychotic murder anywhere near my younger brother? You're going to have to kill me first France ol'pal." Prussia spat in France's direction, pointing an accusing finger at Russia. His eyes glowed like red coals lying at the bottom of a pit of fire.

"Surrender!" France demanded, stomping one boot, his teeth were barred like fangs.

"Nem, Soha!"**(No, never!)** Hungary turned her head to retort, glaring.

"That's an order, to the both of you. You've lost. Your governments have called for an unconditional cease fire." England barked.

"Since when do I give a damn about what anyone else thinks! Don't bring that nonsense into this. What have they done to deserve our loyalty? Where is this government of mine? All I care about is right here, right now. I don't see anyone but my city burning and you monsters!" Prussia yelled.

"We'll come quietly if you agree to stop massacring the innocent citizens of this city! They aren't soldiers, your killing children; they've done nothing wrong! Until then we will defend them to our last breath, these people are all that we have left!" Hungary yelled in desperation.

"I'm sorry but the decision has already been made. It wasn't ours to make or to change; I guess our situations are more similar than we'd like to think. Besides, it's a little late for defense. There's hardly anyone left to save." England huffed, looking off the side of the smoldering slope of rubble that led down into the street.

"Elizaveta, you don't even need to get yourself involved. This is all Prussia's fault. These people aren't even yours. Why are you defending him? If you stand down now, our justice doesn't have to involve you." America wondered allowed, deciding to offer her another chance, genuine confusion showed in his youthful eyes. He had only a deep gash along his left cheekbone and a bandage tied around his thigh. He was in more of a mood to be reasonable, being in a far better condition than the other three nations. America stood to France's right and raised his weapon so that it was pointing at the Prussian of which he spoke.

Hungary turned to stare America straight in the face. She moved directly into Alfred's line of fire, shifting to her left to make herself a human shield in front of Prussia.

"How can you say that!" She yelled, her voice catching in her throat. "I've known him my entire life, since hundreds of years before you were even a second thought in one humans mind. We grew up together and you ask why I'm defending him? Yes he's stupid and he does things without thinking, but do you think it was his choice to enter this war as a slave!" Hungary testified in outrage.

"Don't make this any harder than it needs to be my friends, you'll only make the consequences worse for your loved ones. We wouldn't want little Ludwig to have to suffer for his big brothers mistakes would we?" France's voice floated through the open space between the two parties, slippery and glossy as oil.

The reminder of what could happen to his brother caused something in Prussia to snap. He had it then.

"How dare you threaten him!"

Prussia lunged for Francis's throat with the full intent of strangling the life out of him, but he didn't get very far. His fingers had barely brushed the man's windpipe as Gilbert's body was violently jerked backwards. The hand that clasped his rifle suddenly found itself ensnared by enormous gloved fingers. He was confounded. One instant there was, and now there was no longer soil beneath his boots. Prussia struggled against Russia's grip; feet dangling helplessly more than a foot above the ground, and kicking Ivan's legs repeatedly with all the might he had left. A considerable amount, a nation of dying, cornered people packed a frightening strength. Gilbert punched Russia's shoulder using his free hand with enough force to shatter an ordinary man's bones irreparably.

"Put me down!" Prussia howled in indignation.

"Don't make them kill you Gilbert. We still have a lot of fun things to do together. Now that you've shot my leg, maybe I'll take away your eye or your arm." Russia emphasized this by crushing Gilbert's hand against the iron plating of his rifle. The air crackled with the sound of snapping bones. He grit his teeth against the pain, determined not to show weakness in front of the Allies. Russia's other arm, its sleeve had been torn off and heavily scarred powerful muscle shown beneath was wrapped in a suffocating grip around Prussia's chest.

Hungary charged at Ivan.

"U-ungary, don't come to close." Gilbert managed to choke out over the sound of his rib cage being crushed.

One of the other Allies, she couldn't see which; let loose a bullet that missed her by inches. It ricocheted off a limestone wall behind Ivan.

"Do you want to play too? I'll take you both home with me." Braginski sung. Just as she was about to pull the trigger that would send a bullet through Ivan's brain, out of nowhere a steal water pipe flew.

It skimmed the side of her hip at some ridiculous speed and knocked her gun right from her fingers. A piercing pain ran through her hands and she thought some of her fingers must have been popped out of their sockets. She barley registered that a blur of cold silver just missed her head. Her rifle skidded away from her, tumbling into the flaming darkness of the alleyway that loomed like the gaping hungry mouth of some phantom to Russia's left.

America quickly grabbed her by the waist from behind. She twisted and turned in his hold. She stretched forward, struggling wildly. Elizaveta's fist eventually found America's nose and she was rewarded with a splatter of hot blood against the back of her neck. For a second Alfred loosened his grip and her other hand found Prussia's. She leaned towards him and their lips brushed.

"You won't be alone, remember? I promised." She whispered before being wrenched away by Alfred's strong arms.

Prussia could only give a brief nod, unable to speak as Russia happily jammed his elbow into the man's diaphragm. He remembered watching a young girl with messy brown hair scream his name while he faded. Her face was framed by his dying world as everything was eaten up by the blackness like an old film being burned while the audience watched in the theater.

Gilbert woke with a start to the calm pink light of sunset and the cool air on his face, pleasant after being trapped in a sweltering burning city. The light set the gray walls of the room awash with shades of white, red, purple, and every color in between. In a sweat he gasped for breath like his lungs couldn't get enough oxygen. The room spun around him as if he were dizzy from seasickness. The feeling of the wind being knocked out of him by Russia's jab lingered in his chest.

Something elastic and tangled bound his arms to the gritty surface below him. The material was also wrapped around his waist and legs. His first reaction was to fight. He gave a few good kicks and punches to the cloth before the memories came flooding back. They smashed to pieces the dams of his oblivious confused daze. He remembered his capture, the smell of gasoline and fire. Scenes of darkness played across his mind's eye. Of waking up blindfolded, his skin rubbed raw as he was being dragged across the icy, snowy ground to Russia's home.

He remembered that he had no word about Hungary for an entire year. He was shut away in this small room like a forgotten toy soldier, seeing no one but that fake smile, which never told him anything. It wasn't long before he began having terrifying, exaggerated delusions about Hungary's horrific death. They played like clockwork over and over inside his head, slowly convincing him that he was going mad.

One day Russia decided to wander into his room, just for a visit, he said. He had sat beside Prussia on the decrepit mattress, leaning his back against the peeling wall. His smile grew wider and he announced that he had brought 'good' news, which immediately translated in Prussia's mind as 'bad' news.

"I was just down stairs, when I passed Hungary in the hallway." Russia continued. He said so with a careless wave of one hand.

But that did it, Russia had Prussia's immediate undivided attention, a miraculously thing that perhaps had never really existed before that conversation.

"What have you done to her! I'm tired of playing games, if you're going to tell me some long gruesome tale than spit it out now." Gilbert demanded loudly.

"But Gilbert, I've done nothing! Nothing at all, and she's perfectly happy, so much happier than she was before the war. She's obedient, sweet, and kind."

_That definitely doesn't sound like the Hungary I know, _Prussia thought.

"Yeah right, when I grow a third chin." Prussia had chuckled, gesturing towards his emaciated body.

But Russia continued to feed him stories about what a good soviet soldier his friend had willingly become. Eventually the feeling of betrayal began to sink in, no matter how many times he told himself Russia was lying. _He had to be lying, this is what Russia does to gain more control over us._ However, every time he would remember Hungary's promise, and how she broke it. How she wasn't here. How he was alone. Abandoned.

It was only fuel to the raging angry fire inside.

Then came Christmas, and everything changed.

"Stupid blanket." He mumbled to himself, relaxing back into the mattress. Less frantically this time Prussia strategically detached himself from the mess of warm cloth covering his bed. Unwrapping his imprisoned limbs. He sat up and decided it would be useless to try and fall back asleep. He had slept most of the day away anyway; he seemed to be on a winning streak in avoiding his nightmares until that last one. Prussia brought the blanket up snug around his shoulders. _It smells like her._ He thought, burying his smiling face into the soft as lamb's wool fabric and wondering where she was now. He hoped she wasn't doing something risky and dangerous like he would be.

**So... any thoughts? Boring? Exiting? Over dramatic? Well written? Badly written?**

**What ever they might be, send me a review. ^^**

**Thank you to all you wonderful people for reading 3  
**


	4. Lamppost 19

**So someone said they wanted to know what happens next... Oh my gosh I found the 'magical instant horizontal lines' button! That would have been useful for organizing previous chapters. Here comes a slightly shorter chapter your way, less in it but it's still important. Your reviews are awesome! I never expected so much appreciation *cries tears of joy*. Thanks for sticking with this story. I'm trying to take it easy on the other languages because Google translate only speaks Namekian. It's also kind of annoying when you can't understand any of the dialog in a fanfic.**

The shapes of people bustled by, wrapped tightly in their coats. Their heads were hidden under earmuffs and hats, faces buried in scarves and shawls. They glowed with orange and pink halos in the light, like ghosts on their way home from a long day of haunting their individual worlds. Shops were closing, and the lines outside had dispersed, leaving behind only a few errand running strangers. One such stranger scampered down the wide cobblestone side walk, dressed like she didn't mind the chill, the end of the black knee length jacket that she wore unzipped over her shirt followed close behind her. She wore her long wavy hair down, and it covered her shoulders.

Hungary smiled when she saw him dressed in his long, spruce green coat. He very much fit in. A crimson scarf was wrapped around his small neck. The edge of the fabric was pulled up over his chin. Both of the long cotton ends of the scarf brushed against the brown and red stone below his tawny work boots. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were bright pink in the chilly evening air. She mused that he looked like a frightened turtle, head and limbs drawn into his green coat shell. Lithuania glanced nervously at the tall apartment buildings surrounding him, as if Russia could creep out from the shadows of one of them any second. Just behind his right shoulder was a tall blue lamppost. The column supporting the lantern on top had ridges not unlike those in roman style architecture. The glass lamp itself was in the shape of a hexagonal prism. The lower base of the metal and glass prism was smaller than the upper and it was topped with an intricate blue cap that was shaped like a Hershey Kiss. The lamppost had a tiny metal cross sticking up out of the wrapper instead of a white paper ribbon. Around the rim flat triangular spikes were lined, making it look like the lantern wore a crown.

"Jó estét Magyarország!"**(Good evening Hungary!)** Lithuania greeted Hungary, in her language. His manor instantly brightened.

"Labas vakaras Lietuva!"**(Good evening Lithuania!)** Hungary laughed at how he butchered her words, but greatfully returned the gesture.

"Please don't laugh at me." Lithuania pleaded shyly with a half hearted smile, instantly the nervousness returned. "I-It's n-not my fault your name is so hard to pronounce in your language. It's worse than Poroszország**(Prussia)** or Németország**(Germany)** or-" He rambled, his own tongue stumbling over itself.

"Ok, ok I'm sorry." Hungary assured him with another smile.

"Why can't it be as simple as Amerika?" Lithuania asked curiously.

"Almost everyone calls him that. Besides, I thought it sounded way awesome when I was little. Long and impressive, like a heroic warrior title or something that you yell into the air before battle 'Magyarországnak!' I gave all those kinds of names to all the cool people." Elizaveta explained.

"Hey!" Lithuania protested jokingly. In Hungarian his name was simply Litvánia. He yelled softly, timidly, and Hungary thought he was almost as quiet as Canada **(Who?)** these days. She remembered when they were kids. Back then he was polite and seemed to kind to be much of a fighter at first, but confident and certainly a very formidable foe when it got down to the actual fighting. There was a time when the words 'fierce' and 'courageous' could be used to describe Lithuania. She remembered laughing when Prussia showed up at her doorstep one afternoon all covered in scrapes, sustaining a black eye. His cheek was red and swollen from a well placed punch. He was complaining about how Poland and Lithuania beat him up when he tried to make their land more awesome by incorporating it into the Teutonic Order. That was an unusual turn of events; usually Lithuania lost in fights against Prussia. Of course he didn't actually use the word 'incorporate' he probably didn't even know a word that complicated. Hungary believed his exact words were more along the lines of:

'If Lithuania and Poland don't wanna become awesomer than fine! I don't want them as my friends anyway!' After that he pouted, which for him was actually a form of sulking. _Since he refuses to express sadness like a normal human being_, she grumbled in her head. She remembered the tears quivering precariously at the edges of his eyes that he refused to let fall. He crossed his lanky arms over his white uniform and silver chest plate armor. Hungary retorted with something like.

'That's what you get for bothering them! Really Prussia they're not so bad, if you wanna make friends you should try and be friendlier bone head. Poland's annoy'in sometimes but Lithuania is really nice. I'm friends with him,' hands on her hips. After that he continued to complain that she was hurting him while she bandaged him up. He always made it so difficult; it was his fault he wouldn't stay still.

"I'm glad you were able to decipher my note." Lithuania said, smiling warmly.

Elizaveta was startled out of her reminiscing. Conversation with a friend was pleasant, she could finally be herself.

"Oh, yeah! I didn't get it at first, but then I remembered the only lamppost on the street. It took me a stupid amount of time to realize the numbers were just the military time. I was expecting some complicated code from you." She told him enthusiastically.

"I didn't want to give you something you couldn't figure out." Lithuania explained.

"Thanks for that. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"It's about the princess." Lithuania told her, his tone suddenly dropping an octave in seriousness.

"Princess? What princess?" Hungary tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow in puzzlement.

"Locked inside the highest room in the tallest tower. Guarded by the fearsome Russian dragon and waiting for a knight in shining armor to save him."

Hungary burst out laughing at that. She couldn't help herself. Her loud cackling bounced like thunder off the brick walls of the buildings.

"S-shhhh, someone might hear us!" Lithuania whispered frantically.

"S-sorry, have you really been calling him that?" The girl nation chortled.

"I-it was Poland's idea! We can't really be calling him… Prussia." Lithuania ventured, whispering the name, and glancing warily from his left to right again. "It's too suspicious. This way it will throw people off hearing the conversations we have, since princess refers to a girl, and people could just think it's an endearing term for a little sister or something." He anxiously tried to make her understand.

"He would hate you for that, I mean never forgive you- ah, who is we?" She continued, before her amused expression suddenly switched, catching on solemnity like her jacket catching in the door of a room she was just about to leave. Elizaveta realized something more urgent that Lithuania had mentioned.

"I apologize for leaving you out of it. You are closest to Russia, second only to me. For a long time now the Soviet countries, minus Russia and Gilbert who's of course separated from the rest of us, have been devising an escape plan. We all want to get out of our enslavement alive, and we swore not to leave anyone behind. That means we'll have to go through with our plans sooner than we had originally intended, because of Gilbert's imminent… execution." Hungary flinched at the harsh last word.

"So, you're telling me that you've all been planning something behind Russia's back? Since when?" Her voice barely disguised her surprise.

"Since 1947." He stated like the fact was obvious.

"Why didn't you tell me!" Hungary near screamed as boiling anger flared up in her chest when she discovered she had been left out of something so important, her hand twitched for the familiar weight of her frying pan. Lithuania's hands flew up in front of him in a shaky gesture of peace. Desperately he tried to diffuse her impending wrath.

"I-I said I was sorry! I realized you were going through with your own plans over the years. Really, did you think we would just sit around powerless and complacent? We outnumber Russia and his allies; if we combine our strength and intelligence we could get out of here."

"Alright, fair enough I suppose… go on…" She sighed, her anger deflating. Hungary crossed her arms in front of her chest, still more than a little annoyed.

"Since you were so at odds with Russia first off I decided to let you go through with gaining his trust. It's paid off after all; he clings to you like a child. Regardless of what you've meant to him in the past. "

"A deadly child, he's a leech." She hissed. "You are more observant then I thought." She admitted. A wavering, grateful smile spread across Toris's face.

"Thank you; it's been my aim for more than a century. Just call me the observant servant." He said, laying a nervous hand on the back of his head.

"You're horrible at making puns." None the less, she let a smile escape her again.

"Hey, at least I try. There's not much to be happy about these days." He said lightheartedly.

"So… what's your hand in all of this?" Elizaveta asked, leisurely leaning back on her heels.

"I'm Russia's personal secretary. I hear everything. I know the information before it even gets to him; I'm the middleman between the world and Russia. I know all that goes on within the soviet sphere, where every pin drops and where every tanks engine roars to life. That's made me our unofficial leader." He told her, slipping both hands into his coat pockets.

"Really?" Hungary raised both eyebrows.

"Well, Feliks wanted to lead but…" Lithuania let his sentence trail off into silence.

"I understand." She said, imagining the oppressed soviet countries riding into battle on pink ponies. "I'm surprised you haven't brought him down already, what's holding you back?" At least in recent centuries, Lithuania was a follower never a leader, and she had always thought he had become too much of a coward.

"My position gives me both great advantage and great disadvantage. As I watch everything, everything watches me, Russia particularly." Lithuania informed gravely, before sending her a welcoming smile. "I'd like you to join the rest of us, if you would, we could greatly benefit from your help. I can't tell you much about our plans now, not out here, so close to Russia's house. That is why; I want you to have this." Lithuania took a small white piece of paper out of his coat pocket; it was neatly folded in half, the crease straight and perfect. He handed it to Elizaveta. Curiosity prickled at her finger tips as she unfolded the paper, drawing it close to her body. "If you would please be so kind as to not let it fall into the wrong hands. I would appreciate it if you burned it as soon as possible." He requested politely. Hungary absently nodded her consent as she stared down at the words, it wasn't Lithuania's handwriting. This notes contents were considerably neater, not that Lithuania didn't have neat handwriting, but his last message had been rushed. This person had very distinctive letter 't's, they looked like fish hooks. It read plainly,

_Meet your new friends here:_

_209 Innokenty's Way, Kaliningrad Russia._ Her eyebrows shot up, she turned her eyes up from the paper to gawk at Lithuania.

"S-so far away! Lithuania, you do realize we are in Moscow right!" Her loud voice rang out, incredulous.

"Of course I do, but I know you'll figure out something, you always do." He gave her one last wide smile before hastily turning and continuing off down the street.

"T-Toris! Are you insane! Come back here!" She yelled after him, her fist tightly clenched around the letter, effectively crushing it with a low crunching noise. When he made no move to respond, she started to run after him, frustration pounding out in her footsteps.

"Goodbye Miss Hungary!" Lithuania told her with the smile still in his voice, and his back turned. He lifted a hand into the air, arm bent at a ninety degree angle and waving a lazy farewell before he turned around the corner of one of the large buildings. Hungary raced after him, only some five feet behind. She too turned the corner, but all that greeted her on the other side was a dark vacant sidewalk on a quiet street in winter Russia. She broke sharply on the rock, scanning the street for him. Only the blurry gray figures of a few stragglers, citizens yet to make it home before dark, lumbered on in the distance. She whispered under her breath,

"He disappeared…"

* * *

Hungary lay with the comforters in a tangle on her bed. She was on her back staring up at the circular mosaic tiled ceiling. She watched the ancient words and pictures telling stories she didn't understand. The language of the loopy curling words was probably an ancient Baltic or Rus tongue; she hadn't seen anything like them since hundreds of years ago. When the forests were mightier than man and the skies were blue and never ending. The letter Lithuania had given her lay on her small desk sitting in the corner near the door. You could tell it used to sit in the sunlight, because the wood was bleached pale. The note was a fine black circle of dust around the base of a tall yellow candle, in the form of ashes. Her arms were pillowed beneath her head as she pondered the impossible.

How was she supposed to make it all the way to Prussia's old capital, without Russia noticing she was gone? There was only one of her, she couldn't make the six hundred mile or more trip to the Baltic Sea without someone noticing that she was missing. She was forbidden to leave Moscow, period, shoot on sight if seen elsewhere period. Elizaveta knew she would be hunted like an animal; Russia would undoubtedly think the stunt was some kind of betrayal. Also, she would have to take a plane, but she couldn't afford a ticket. All her money belonged to Russia. Trying to get there via motor vehicle would be ridiculously tedious. She would have to hitchhike, again crazy, and wouldn't make it before the execution anyway. Did she mention that Kaliningrad was basically Russia's weapons warehouse, the country's fortified military super-center, equipped with nuclear missiles and the works? How could she be expected to break into that?

Maybe this was just all an elaborate joke. Lithuania's jokes were always the worst; he was kidding himself. They were pitiful attempts at humor.

**Spoilers: Lithuania is a wizard. **


End file.
